Black Crimson
by DragonflyxParodies
Summary: "You aren't like the rest of us. Not just with the Rite. You don't belong here. You're an outcast, and you've no right to stay." The first pulse; When his powers awakened during the Rite. They lost his location, unprepared for a successor so quickly. The second pulse; Unraveling Beast from Man. That time they found him. This time, Blood will not release Blood so easily.
1. Chapter 1

He went to bed the night before Preparations began like he had every night for the past five years. He marveled at that as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling while she wrapped her thin arms around his stomach, resting her forehead on his back. She'd been so full of energy Mother had threatened to tie her to the bed earlier, something that seemed impossible with her so exhausted she hadn't even put her nightclothes on.

She was so excited for the Rite it unnerved him, but he supposed she was just trying to make up for his own lack of excitement. That was a lie he let her believe, though. His stomach tightened slightly at the thought of what was about to occur in the morning, mere hours away.

He would choose a name.

That was what was worrying him, what had him up in the darkest hours of the night while she slept like the dead beside him. He had read in a book a very long time ago a name that had struck a chord within him, a note of familiarity that had shocked him then and still did. He was, quite honestly, terrified someone else would pick the name before he got to choose it from the Book of Names.

The door creaked open and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to slow and deepen. He felt a tendril of Mother's magic brush against the ball of un-Rited magic in his stomach, and he heard her step carefully across worn floorboards. He heard a chair quietly being pulled out from a corner, and then a warm hand on his forehead. He let out a breath and looked up at her, giving up the pretense of sleep.

"What's wrong, darling?" Mother asked softly, warm green eyes filled with concern. He frowned, studying her. She still looked as he remembered, long honey-brown hair tied into a loose bun, pale skin carrying few traces of aging. She was beautiful as she had always been, and for a second he scowled. He didn't know why he had suddenly thought she'd change-he was the one going through the Rite, not her.

"Nothing, Mother." He sighed, wincing as thin arms tightened momentarily around his stomach.

"Are you nervous?" Her voice was quiet, but gentle as always, soothing him.

"A little." He mumbled, pressing his face into the mop of blonde hair beside him. Mother stroked his hair back quietly. He knew she expected him to tell her why he was agitated, but he wouldn't. He could take care of that himself-he'd no need to burden her with that.

"Rest, my darling. I'll stay here with you." She murmured. With the soothing, repetitive motion of her hand, he felt sleep rising up to take him before he was aware his eyes had closed.

He glanced at the line of children behind him, each child staring at him with wide, expectant eyes. He was one of the last to enter-he'd taken too long at the morning meal-and the spiders climbing around in his stomach were much more awake than they had been the night before. He let out a slow breath before pulling open the Keep's doors. He grunted-they were much heavier than he remembered-and slipped through the tiny opening. The doors slammed shut behind him with a bang and he flinched at the loud noise. It reminded him that this was not the Keep he was used to, not the place he had spent so many hours in. This was the Keeper's domain, and he had no right to think it his.

The room before him was lit with various candles, the large bookshelves that usually dominated the room pushed against the walls to make room for a table in the center. The Keeper sat at the table, two massive books set before her. Carefully, he made his way to the table.

"Pick up the book to the left, boy, and choose a name for yourself." The Keeper said, gesturing to a green-covered book. He studied it, then slowly looked up at her.

"Keeper, I already have a name picked." He said quietly, uneasy with the sudden spark in her eyes.

"Is that so? Where did you find it?"

He had no idea if it was in the Book of Names. That was why he dutifully trotted over to the wall of shelves and let his fingers skim the familiar shapes, finally drawing out the one that he had read all that time ago. He slid it carefully out of its place and glanced over its cover, grey leather that had not seen much use nor felt the touch of fingers save his own. He snapped out of his reverie and hurried over to her, carefully placing it upon the book she had gestured to earlier.

Delicately, the Keeper's trembling hands reached out and lifted it from its resting place, turning the book over a few times before setting it in her lap. She flipped through the pages idly, apparently impervious to his wide, anxious stare. She stopped on one page in particular, and ran a finger down the spine of the book as she glanced up at him, movements very slow and deliberate.

"Show me the name." There was a tone to her voice, cold and demanding, that shocked him into action. He did his best to ignore the thoughts in his head, second-guessing and suddenly highly self-conscious. What if the name didn't fit as he had thought? What if he was not allowed to choose this name, and she was simply doing this to teach him a lesson?

He handed the book back to her, a finger on the word that was causing him so much anxiety. Her eyes captured the inked letters and she took the offered book, absently batting his hand away.

"Ah…The Legends often hold more to them than just tales, boy. Do you know what this name means?" He shook his head, jaw clenching as his cheeks flushed. The excuse on his lips-he was five years old and even though he read a lot he was still a kid-died when she didn't react. For that he was grateful. Most of the other children and adults treated him strangely, and if they were to learn he'd not done something as obvious as to research the name, they'd never let him forget it.

"Interesting…Yes, boy, this name will do. Remember it well for the Rite, and say nothing of this to anyone." Her instructions were sharp as she closed the book with a curt snap, placing it onto her lap. He didn't react for a long moment, then his head snapped into a nod so quickly a flicker of pain blossomed in the back of his head. He winced and pressed his fingertips against the spot.

"Now go, boy. I've other children to check." She said, making a shooing motion with her hands. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed to her quickly before running to the door, wasting absolutely no time in leaving.

With his fear gone, the only emotion he could find within him was relief.

"Brother!" He turned quickly, tensing on instinct. A bundle of pink and yellow slammed into him, sending him onto the rocky ground beneath him. Luck saw fit to keep rocks a safe distance away from his head this time, and he groaned at the impact.

"What are you doing?" He muttered, pushing her off of him. His sister, his twin, giggled as she sat down beside him. Her blonde hair was wild and tangled around her head, short like his and betraying the fact she'd been in the woods when she wasn't supposed to. They were not allowed to grow their hair out until after the Rite. Afterwards, hair was to be kept long-something she was probably looking forward to more than the Rite itself.

"Didja pick your name?" She gasped, blue eyes wide.

"Yes." He said, scrambling to his feet. She clapped. She'd gotten to the Keep ahead of him and had already chosen her name. He caught the question on his lips-_what name did you pick?-_ Just before it slipped out. He was unused to her keeping anything from him, and despite the discomfort prickling within him, he kept quiet. It was necessary, and if she did tell him it could ruin the Rite.

Still, he was the one who kept secrets. She didn't.

"Mama said we've gotta go home because we have to get ready for the Rite tonight!" She declared as the two of them stood. She hooked her arm through his, and began dragging him towards home.

He could feel the stares prickling his back, and glued his eyes on the ground ahead of him while she rambled on.

The women in the village outnumbered the men probably around three to one, and he and his sister were the only pair of twins out of all of them, so alike the only difference between them was gender and personality-they shared blue eyes, pale skin, and blonde hair. He preferred to hole himself up in the Keep with books or participate in other solitary activities, and he spoke to nearly no one save Mother and his sister. He didn't know what they thought of him, but he did know they avoided him. His sister was the opposite. Open, cheery, always ready to speak to anyone no matter who they were. She drew people; he repelled people. It had always been that way.

"Are we going to get to eat tonight?" He inquired, stopping with his sister in front of Mother's house.

"Darling, do you honestly think I'd send you off to the Rite without food in your belly?" Despite himself, he cringed as Mother's head popped out of the window.

"No, Mother." He said, eyes falling to the ground. She laughed, a beautiful, chiming sound, and pushed the door open for them. His sister pulled him in and he followed.

It was the scent of home that hit him the hardest, however. After the Rite, he would live with his Cluster until he had mastered his magic, and then he would build his own home. He'd never lie in his bed again, or wake up with his sister, or hear Mother's laugh.

"Come now, darlings. You can't eat too much because of the Rite, but there's a bit of soup on the table for both of you. After you finish I expect both of you to bathe and dear, if you don't brush your hair I will." Mother said, staring pointedly at his sister. She received a cheeky smile, and the two of them hurried to the table.

"Thank you, Mother." He called over his shoulder as his sister pulled him on.

He hadn't ever dressed up like this. He had a clean pair of brown breeches and a grey tunic on and he'd cleaned his boots on Mother's orders. His sister wore a simple grey dress, plain and unadorned like his clothing. Her hand was very small in his as he stepped into line. He knew her gaze was locked on Mother's, and knew she was a thousand times as nervous as he was. The Priestess lifted her hands, and silence descended upon all gathered. He bit down on his lip, almost drawing blood.

"Send the first child forward." The Priestess's voice was calm, stern, gentle-yet her eyes were misting over until they remained a solid sapphire blue, no white or black coloring them whatsoever.

The Rite had begun.

The first child stepped forward until she stood beneath the Priestess's outstretched hands, and lifted her face up, closing her brown eyes. The Priestess's body convulsed once, and she cried out.

"Water!"

The child's eyes opened, brown irises now a deep, dark blue, and she walked a few steps away from the Priestess before stopping, forming the head of a new line. The next child stepped forward.

"Shadow!" Brown eyes became black.

"Earth!" Hazel eyes became brown.

"Music!" Blue eyes became violet.

"Fire!" Grey eyes became gold.

"Wind!" Green eyes became silver.

"Light!" Indigo eyes became colorless.

Each time the Priestess gasped out an element, trembling as the Sapphire Goddess herself entered her body, the child's eyes embodied their own element as their magic recognized and blossomed to it. The line steadily grew shorter and shorter, and his sister's fingers tightened around his as his turn grew ever closer. No fear, no anxiety touched him. He had confirmed his name, and it was his now. His magic didn't seem anywhere near as important as that.

The child ahead of him stepped into the other line, violet eyes wide with delight. He released his sister's hand. He came forward and stepped in front of the Priestess, closing his eyes and lifting his head up. She drew in a deep breath-

-and paused.

The silence grew, and it took all he had not to open his eyes. Something slid _inside_ of him, carefully prodding and touching the ball of magic within him. The Priestess drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and it slid out of him. A tremor ran down his spine, relieved to be rid of the invasive _thing_.

"Blood." The Priestess's voice was much weaker now. His eyes opened, and he glanced at the pale, drawn face of the Priestess before walking over to the line. He could feel his magic rising up within him, unfurling its tendrils as it bonded fully to his element. He watched his sister step forward, a frown on his lips as he wondered what exactly went wrong with his own Rite.

"Light!" His sister's eyes opened, and she smiled at him as she approached. The irises were colorless now, a very strange sight on her. She squeezed his hand gently before taking her place beside him.

Three more children were left, and the Rite finished quickly. Fire, shadow, and music took their places in the line, and the Priestess collapsed as the Goddess left her. An adult hurried forward to lift the Priestess up and carry her out of the clearing.

The Keeper stepped forward, and he became intensely aware that she was staring directly at him as she spoke.

"Raise your hand in the air now. Then lower it. Touch the ground and whisper your name to the Goddesses. Feel your power bond fully to yourself, and receive your Manifestation." He glanced down at the ground and crouched there, lifting his hands up. He let out a slow breath, and pressed his palms against the dirt. His magic surged out of him, burying itself in the earth before slowly winding its way back towards him, and he whispered his name.

"Sheik."

His magic burst out of the ground, burning his blood and freezing his muscles. It was not an agonizing event-it was euphoric. He could hardly breathe, awed by the beauty of his own power. A sharp pain released him abruptly and he tried to jerk back-but something dug into his arms. He bit down on his lip to keep himself silent, glancing down.

He froze.

He'd expected a Manifestation, of course, but not one as dangerous as his own.

A black chain wrapped around his arm all the way up to his shoulder, wrapped to thickly he could barely see the grey of his tunic. Wicked-looking spikes were pressed inwards towards his flesh, and scarlet had gathered on the spikes tips. His other arm was the same picture.

He could barely breathe. The chains were beautiful, wonderfully crafted and obviously deadly. Between his hands lay hard grey-blue polished shells, which after a moment he recognized as arm-guards.

"Brother!" He looked up, and his eyes widened even further when he saw his sister. She held a beautifully crafted ivory bow etched with gold in her hand, a matching quiver filled with arrows of the same material resting against her boot.

"What's your name?" She asked, eyes wide with delight. He looked down at his chains and slowly unwound them, wincing as the spikes dug into his skin before replying.

"Sheik." He felt giddy just saying it. His name.

_His own name!_

"Sheik? That's pretty! I picked Zelda." She declared, sticking out a hand to help him up. He pooled the chain into his other hand, carefully holding it so the side with the spikes wasn't touching his bare fingers, and scooped the arm-guards up into his arms as he took her hand.

"Zelda…It fits." He finally said, offering her a small smile. His sister-no, Zelda now-beamed back.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up. Mother stood there, eyes wary and flighty and nervous.

"Darling…There's no Cluster for you, so you'll go with Teacher Saria and the Music Cluster for now, alright?" Mother's touch was light and as soon as she'd finished speaking she withdrew her hand. He felt as if he'd been punched. Why was she scared? Was it because of his magic?

He nodded slowly, eyes falling to the ground as she vanished. A hand slid into his and he glanced up. Zelda held it, and she smiled.

"You're eyes are beautiful, Broth-Sheik. They're ruby, like the Keeper's cloak, except that they're prettier!" She said softly. He understood she was trying to help, and he offered her a weak smile before pulling his hand out of her grasp and adjusting his grip on his Manifestation. He glanced back at her as he hurried towards the violet-eyed Cluster, watching her skip over to her own Cluster.

Everything was going to change.


	2. Chapter 2

The other children avoided him. Foul names whispered in the wind each time he passed them and fearful glances lowered to the ground if he looked up at them. Water soaked his bedroll each night, and if he wasn't careful to hide his belongings, he'd find his few articles of clothing and personal possessions strewn around the village, soiled and broken.

No one physically attacked him-his Manifestation was a weapon, and part of the training was to master the Manifestation. For those like him with weapons, they spent hours and hours training with Aunt Nabooru, and in the Music Cluster weapons were rare. None wanted to face what could easily become a real fight, and since the Keeper had procured a set of child's armor that fit his arm-guards style and material, they avoided him all the more.

Which was why he sitting in a clearing in the forest with Teacher Saria.

Teacher Saria sat in front of him, her wooden ocarina resting lightly on her lap as she waited. A blanket was spread out on the ground in front of him, covered with various instruments. He was the first student to find his Soul Instrument, and because of the other students, Teacher Saria was letting him seek it out with her rather than in front of the class.

He'd spent the few months of training learning to recognize sound everywhere he went, identify a person's true motives from the tones in their voice, and memorize instruments and scales. He wasn't the best singer, but Natural Magic responded readily and easily to his call.

Now, he was going to find what would essentially be an extension of his Manifestation.

"Close your eyes, Sheik." Teacher Saria said softly, lifting her ocarina-her Soul Instrument-to her lips. The six-year-old obeyed, forcing himself to relax. He hadn't been this nervous in…well, ever.

Teacher Saria played a song he was familiar with, one that she had composed. The tune was simple and fast, but hearing it always sent a shiver down his spine. It carried undertones of death, destruction, of a beautifully twisted delight in what should remain in nightmares, covered by a light and airy melody.

He felt a slight tugging sensation in his fingertips and reached out. Natural Magic surged towards him, pulling at his own Rited power. It tried to rear its sluggish head, blossoming and spreading until he could hardly contain it-he forced it back down, condensing it until it remained nothing more than a tiny ball.

The tugging sensation became painful, and he winced softly as he let his hand move in accordance with the pull. He felt strings beneath his fingertips, and then Teacher Saria's song stopped.

"You can open your eyes now." He detected her surprise and frowned as he obeyed. He was touching a lyre. Carefully but still holding it, he moved away. He sucked in a sharp breath.

It seemed like a copy of the wooden lyre was being yanked right out of the original. It came free easily, and he stared. It was crafted of gold, intricate carvings etched upon its entire surface. He plucked at the strings gingerly. The sound was clear, resonating in his very bones.

"Interesting. We haven't had anyone with that particular instrument in a very long time, Sheik." Teacher Saria said, smiling at him. He hugged the instrument to his chest and tentatively smiled back.

A year later, he mastered all Teacher Saria could teach him. He was sent to the Shadow Cluster.

Teacher Impa was strict, cold and very serious. She taught him separately from the Cluster, which gave him twice the time to practice than the others got. He desperately needed that-she was undeniably much harder on him than she was on her Cluster. He took that as a compliment, and excelled at all she taught him.

It wasn't just mastering Shadow Magic that she taught him. She showed him how to hide what he felt, how to brush off the taunting and the teasing. She showed him how to unnerve those around him by never showing emotion, how to surprise an opponent by never taking their bait. She taught him to be strong and how to ignore distractions.

Those lessons were invaluable to him during that time. The Shadow Cluster was cruel, much crueler than the Music Cluster had been. Pranks escalated and soon he was sporting bruises and cuts-but never where Teacher Impa could see them. He learned that his old hiding places were useless, and that they knew how to avoid detection.

So he threw himself into training. He beat the other students again and again and again. He worked himself until he collapsed and then some. He kept practicing with his Soul Instrument, until he could imbue the songs he wrote with power that astonished Aunt Saria-no longer his teacher, she received the same title all non-siblings or parents received. He mastered sneaking until even Teacher Impa could not detect him unless she was fully submerged in her element. He worked until he could bend Shadow itself to his will.

All for this moment.

He'd expected it for a while. Not because he received what others thought of as 'special treatment' or because he worked harder and accomplished more than those born with the element did. No, he'd expected it because of the fear concerning his eyes.

Ruby, Zelda called them. Ruby when he was happy, when he was at peace. Like dried blood when he was angry.

He was angry.

Mido had been the star of the Shadow Cluster before he'd arrived. The larger boy was cruel, cold and heartless-and Shadow responded to his call eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to humiliate Sheik, to cause as much pain as he possibly could. The older boy hated him-which was why he'd dragged Zelda into the mess.

And for that, he was going to kill Mido.

She was pinned against one of Mido's lackeys, a huge boy a few years ahead of him more known for his muscles than his brains. One arm was wrapped around Zelda's waist, pinning her arms at her sides, and another around her throat. As far as he could tell Zelda was unharmed, although she was terrified.

He unwound his Manifestation, smiling grimly at their familiar weight without

No words were spoken, but Zelda's eyes met his, wide and scared over the arm wrapped around her throat.

Mido lunged, the ugly spear that was his Manifestation outstretched. Sheik hopped out of the way and swept Mido's foot out from beneath him, sending the larger boy to the ground. Mido vanished into Shadow immediately. Sheik frowned. He wasn't stupid-Shadow would answer Mido more readily than he, even though it respected him. He wasn't going to give the advantage up, however.

An idea came to him and he put away his chains, summoning his Soul Instrument. He tugged at the Natural Magic in the air until it masked his music from the ears of all but him and played a song he had composed, a song to draw storms beneath his will. Even as he played it, those that held his sister began sashaying forward, laughing and calling words he ignored at his actions.

The rain was instant and blindingly torrential.

He didn't bother to mask his smile as he banished his Soul Instrument and drew out his Manifestation. Shadow existed in the same space as Light, save invisible. With a downpour as strong as this one, the place where Mido stood would be clearly outlined.

The brute stood beside his sister, spear aimed at her heart.

His chain snapped out and caught the spear, and he jerked it off balance. Mido had been readying his weapon, not in the midst of striking, and the Manifestation went flying out of Shadow and his hands at the same moment. Sheik spoke a Bind, and the spear froze mid-air. Mido would not be able to use it until he allowed him to.

A minute later he had his chain wrapped around Mido's throat as the boy's face was pressed into the muddy ground. The rain began to let up. When he lifted his gaze to the boy holding his sister, the boy dropped her and fled.

"Zelda, close your eyes." He said softly. She shook her head, scrambling over to him. She grasped his hand and instantly he dulled the spikes on his Manifestation so that they would not cause her harm.

"Don't." She whispered.

He hesitated.

He was packing his few belongings into a pack when Mido materialized out of Shadow at the foot of what was no longer Sheik's bunk.

He was being put into the Spirit Cluster now. Teacher-now Aunt-Impa had declared if he didn't leave soon she'd have to step down as Teacher. Aunt-now Teacher-Nabooru had revealed herself to be the Teacher of the Spirit Cluster. He hoped that it wouldn't take as long as the other Clusters had, because he was quite familiar with Nabooru and she'd imparted some of her Cluster tactics to him during training.

Mido's throat still bore faint marks of where his dulled spikes had bruised his skin. The red-head's eyes hesitantly lifted to meet his, uneasy and uncertain.

"Look-" Mido stopped himself and lifted an arm. Sheik's eyes narrowed and went to the limb, but Mido only dropped a bundle of grey cloth on his by now stripped bunk.

"Thanks. For…For not killing me." The older boy's voice was rough, harsh. Sheik snorted.

"Do you thank a murderer for dying before he kills another?" Sheik asked pointedly, tying his pack closed. Mido's confusion was obvious.

"Thank Zelda. I would have killed you without a second thought. You've no good in you and-hurting my sister aside-you are sadistic, and you take pleasure in causing harm to those who least deserve it. The only reason you just have bruises is because she asked." He said shortly. Mido's gaze locked on the wall and the two stood there in silence for a very long moment. Finally, Mido's eyes lifted to his.

"You aren't like the rest of us. Not just with the Rite. You don't belong here. Your life here? It's gonna suck. You'll never have a friend, and you'll never marry. Your Teacher-no matter how many times you switch-will never care about you. You might not deserve it, but that's all you'll ever have to look forward to. You're an outcast, and you've no right to stay here." Mido paused suddenly. His hesitation was clear, his agitation even stirring up Shadow. Mirror-like flecks began to flicker into existence around Mido.

The boy lifted up the bundle he'd tossed on Sheik's bed. It appeared to be much like a shirt, except it had no sleeves and no sides. On the front a black symbol was etched-_Kah_.

_Outcast._

"But you aren't that bad of a person. You wouldn't have tried to kill me if I hadn't done all of what I did…It doesn't really matter what kind of person you are and it never will. But it's a good thing you don't belong here. So…" Mido tossed the garment at him. He barely caught it, shocked beyond words by his-former?-adversaries' words.

"Wear it with pride." Mido murmured, smiling wryly for a second before turning and leaving.

Teacher Rauru lifted a hand and the fight began. He hadn't expected the Light Cluster to be taught so violently, and he realized with growing concern that his sister had gone through these spars.

He was twelve-and-a-half and was facing an adult in a battle that would only end when Teacher Rauru said so, and the elderly man was notorious for forcing opponents to nearly kill one another before letting up.

Then again, his sister had spared with students at her own level of power. Zelda had graduated and was even teaching her own Cluster although she wasn't the usual age, her power so strong she found defeating Teacher Rauru no more difficult than breathing.

He was exaggerating, but _still_.

A huge ball of pure Light shot towards him, devouring all Shadow around him.

He'd been an unusual student. He knew how to use and control Shadow, but Light had been foreign to him. After he'd gotten used to the different feel of Light and used to the limits he faced when working with it-Shadow was much easier to work with-he'd found it almost exactly like working with Shadow save a few key differences.

But he wasn't fighting with Light. He was fighting with Shadow, to help Teacher Rauru teach the adult. Thankfully.

He ran around aimlessly, dodging strike after strike and defending himself for a few minutes while he scrambled to think of what to do.

Aunt Impa's favorite lesson filtered back to him, and an idea formed in his head. She'd been adamant when telling him of the Lore and her favorite story had been of Creation. Hers was different than the one Mother had told him growing up, and that had always interested him. Her tale spoke of nothing existing before Shadow, and Shadow eventually growing lonely and creating Light.

She'd drilled it into him that Light was nothing. Light was temporal, and would one day vanish. Only Shadow was eternal.

He still hesitated before drawing on the Natural Magic around him. He'd never attempted anything like this before. He'd never tried something that would require such a large amount of energy or that would tug at the very fabric of Shadow.

A gargantuan explosion of Light rocketed towards him and he lifted a hand. He tugged on Shadow, and Light vanished.

There was absolutely nothing around him. All senses died, all feeling vanished. He'd never gone this deep in Shadow before, and the realization sent a thrill of excitement down his spine.

He heard Rauru shout, and the student shriek in fear. He released Shadow instantly, and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden blaze of Light. He wondered if he'd gone too far-had something happened?

His eyes adjusted after a second. The student had had their hands over their eyes and was lying in a ball on the ground, but appeared unharmed. He looked over his shoulder at Teacher Rauru. The larger man's face was deathly white, colorless eyes locked on him. Sheik shifted uncomfortably. He had no desire to anger Teacher Rauru, although he disliked the man. He sensed he had not hurt them but he still walked over to the student and helped them up, drawing Light until he was almost blinded but the student could see.

Still blinking spots away, he had no idea Teacher Rauru had moved until a large hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Sheik jumped and looked up.

"…Interesting method. You may retire for the night." Teacher Rauru's voice was short and clipped, making Sheik nervous. Something was wrong. Regardless, he nodded and slipped off.

Aunt Impa was waiting for him at his bunk, his pack full at her feet.

"Come." She said shortly, turning on her heel and slipping into Shadow as soon as he picked up his pack. He frowned and followed.

All obstructions ceased to exist. The walls around him were nothing more than faint smears of energy, his pack a tiny point of energy. Shadow was a place without containment, without barriers. Aunt Impa walked through one of the smears and he hurried after her. Distance no longer existed either-he went two steps and Aunt Impa vanished, so he released Shadow.

Something that was almost Light crashed into existence around him-the chirping of birds and the tall trees towering around him. Faintly he made out the bustle of the village behind them. Aunt Impa had a hand on a large tree with spreading branches almost like a staircase. He craned his neck to look up. A series of large square-like structures blocked out the dim sunlight that filtered in through the thick canopy of leaves.

Everything was infused with a beautiful, dim silver and purple glow, and soft grey squares almost resembling Shadow seeping into Light broke free of everything and floated up into the sky. The birds sounded strange, crying out with curiously beautiful tone. It seemed metallic and precise, yet at the same time was undeniably melodic, resonating with longing and a fierceness alien to him. The tree's bark was ivory, curling into long ringlets that he immediately thought to write on, the leaves a light black-if there was such a thing.

Curiously, he looked at Aunt Impa.

"Starting from now any spare time you have will be spent on this-your home." She said, tone sharp as always. She began walking up the branches and he hurried after her, eye wide and silent, with shock and wonder.

"I've chosen this tree for your home as it is easily defendable and high in the air. Before you ask why-" Aunt Impa stopped abruptly and turned to face him.

"-I heard your conversation with Mido. He's right. At some point, someone will decide that the little boy with red eyes needs to go, and they have no right to do that. You do _not_ deserve that, Sheik, and-" Aunt Impa stopped speaking suddenly, and her black eyes turned to the forest to their right. Sheik studied her for a moment, self-consciously tugging at the cloth he wore over his armor. A heavy silence grew between them, broken only by the strange birdsong.

"What about fire?" He asked quietly. The tenseness faded from Aunt Impa's body slowly and she gestured at the tree.

"Protection wards. This place, Sheik, exists between Shadow and Light. None except those you want to enter can. This plane is called Twilight. It is somewhat like Shadow, and exists as the balance between the two. It is filled with creatures you will at one point, have to face. You are to tell no one about this, understand? If you have questions, you are to come find me."

"If this is like Shadow, then why can I keep others out?" He asked, frowning. Aunt Impa's eyes bored into his.

"Sheik, do you think you are the only child to have Blood Magic in all of our history? Your magic is strange-different from any other magic. Your element is rare, but those who've had it have an affinity for Twilight. You share a special connection with Shadow, Sheik, but Twilight is entirely yours."

He tentatively reached out to draw on the Natural Magic saturating the air around him. The response was instantaneous.

Black leaves shifted and golden eyes gleamed out at him. What he had believed to be birdsong became hushed, rapid and hurried as the golden eyes vanished and reappeared in another spot. Undergrowth rustled excitedly, and every so often something would brush against him, there and gone without his detection until the contact occurred. He held himself still as it happened, the Natural Magic warning him not to make a threatening move.

The Natural Magic felt strange, delicate but strong and entirely sentient-despite Aunt Impa's tales, neither Shadow nor Light had a mind of their own. He released it but the power stayed with him, probing and searching of its own will. He looked up at Impa, eyes wide.

"I've built the platforms as the flooring of your home. There are piles of supplies waiting for you. I know your teachers have taught you the basic skills you will need and-"

"What about Zelda?" He interrupted, frowning.

"If you want your sister to live here, that is up to you." Aunt Impa's lips played into a small smile as she spoke, and the Shadow Teacher began climbing again. He hurried after her, a massive burden suddenly lifted from him. Twilight was beautiful despite its strangeness, and he was excited to show it to Zelda as well.

They came to the first platform, which was much larger than he'd thought. A rope bridge led higher up to another platform, which was filled with lumber already cut and shaped. He lifted an eyebrow and looked up at Aunt Impa, who seemed to be determined to ignore his amused look.

"What's following us?" He asked, shifting as something brushed against his leg, an inky shadow that vanished into the tree behind him before he could see it clearly. Aunt Impa finally turned to look at him, an amused smile twitching into existence.

"I do not know. That is for them to tell you, if they wish. I do believe they like you. They're probably hiding because of my presence." She shrugged. He frowned thoughtfully and looked at a particular pair of golden eyes high above him.

"Are they scared of you?" He asked. Aunt Impa laughed.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm not meant to see them." Being cryptic was not unusual for her, but he still scowled at her.

"I think it's best if you let them be, Sheik. They'll approach you when they wish too." Aunt Impa said lightly, walking over to a pile of boards.

"Now, come. We've work to do."

He found the Fire Cluster amusing. The people were spirited, passionate and jovial-much more accepting of him than the other Clusters had been. Everything was fascinating and exciting, and they found joy in all that occurred. But the reason Sheik found them amusing was simple-as the Fire Cluster, the idea was that they would control and master fire itself. When a wildfire raged through the forest, the Fire Cluster was supposed to bring it under control and extinguish it.

Two days into training, he understood why they didn't.

Fire loathed being contained, being stopped, tamed, enslaved. The first time he stepped into a house with a fire in the hearth, the flame's rage had overwhelmed him. Rather than direct fire, the Fire Cluster rode with it, reveled in its fierce glory and basked in its delight as it turned all to ash, and cherished the satisfaction it felt as it died.

He found it ironic they stood against the very thing their position suggested, which amused him. Zelda, however, did not understand that.

The Fire Cluster lived separately from the village because of their position upon their element. Their homes contained no flame-when night fell activities ceased. Food was eaten cold, save meat brought from the village already cooked. The Fire Cluster was a ways away from the village in case of contact with a 'tame' fire, so the walk back was always exhausting even when he entered Shadow-he had a feeling Shadow teased him by making the distance longer than it would have been in Light.

Aunt Impa was teaching her Cluster that night and he was alone when he stepped into Twilight. Zelda was sleeping in the bunkhouse with her Cluster that night-one of the new children had nightmares and she wanted to comfort her.

Golden eyes followed his movements as he hurried onto the first platform. All of the platforms-there were five in total-were mostly finished. Two were complete and furnished, two others were missing doors and windows, and one was missing a roof. Between he and Impa, they'd discovered time passed slower in Twilight, and he had gotten a lot better at building.

Glancing at a splintered ball of wood that had been lying in a corner for a month, he nodded to himself. _Much better._

Something skittered past him and he frowned, carefully stepping closer to the edge. A pair of large golden eyes stared up at him from a thick ball of leaves.

"You can come in if you want. All of you." He said quietly, entirely uncertain as to how to act or even if they could hear him. The golden eyes blinked slowly and vanished. He sighed and turned-and promptly stepped backwards and slipped off the platform. A hand shot out and grasped his arm, pulling him back up before he could fall.

He blinked slowly at his savior while he waited for his heart to start again.

"Please don't do that again." He finally breathed, steadying himself against the wall of the structure.

"Next time I promise to let you fall to your death." She-he could tell by her voice-said sweetly.

He knew instantly he was one of the golden-eyed beings, and not because her golden eyes were studying him with amusement. She was shaped strangely. She was tall and thin, but her curves were prominent, like Aunt Rutela's-just exaggerated and stretched like the syrup the Keeper made during winter. She had a mane of very long orange hair and wore a long black garment covered in blue markings. Her skin was a dusky grey also bearing blue etchings.

"Why didn't you come out before?" He asked quietly. She tilted her head, an amused smile touching her lips.

"Were we invited?"

"This is your home. I'm the intruder." He said, shifting uncomfortably. He was fairly certain that inviting the 'natives' in had been a mistake, judging by the slow smile spreading across her face.

"You're an odd….What are you?" She asked, pulling a face.

"A…Hylian." He said hesitantly. He never felt right introducing himself. Traditionally he was to add his Cluster-but he had no Cluster. He was bounced around from Cluster to Cluster until his teachers grew tired of him. Aunt Impa was different, but he'd still been sent away.

"Hylian? No, that's not right. The black-eyed woman isn't either, or the girl." She said, shaking her head. He scowled.

"I think we'd know what we are." He couldn't keep the childish surliness out of his voice, which seemed to amuse her.

"I'd think you would too." Her eyes betrayed the sincerity of her tone.

"And what are you?" He shot back, knowing full well he was being petty.

"We are the Twilit. The people who live in Twilight."

"That's not confusing." He muttered, shifting. She laughed.

"And you're any better? The not-Hylian from Light who is drenched in Shadow yet lives in Twilight?" He shot her a flat glare rather than replying.

"What is Light like?" She asked, eyes suddenly gleaming as she dropped onto the platform. He hesitantly followed suit, frowning.

"Haven't you ever been in Light?" She shook her head violently, surprising him.

"The Twilit are…We can only exist in Twilight. Light burns-we fade quickly. Shadow freezes us." Her voice was low and she kept her gaze distant-like Zelda did when she talked about her Cluster, something she wasn't supposed to discuss with any but Uncle Rauru.

"Why would you tell me that?" He asked softly. She smirked at him and shook her head again, as if he was missing something, which he had an ever-growing feeling he was.

"What's your name?" She asked instead of answering him. He sighed, knowing pressing the matter wasn't going to bear fruit. She seemed like Aunt Impa in that way, although Aunt Impa wasn't anywhere near as sarcastic as the Twilit in front of him.

"Sheik." He said quietly, offering her as much of a smile as he could muster. She smirked again, something he was beginning to assume was a common occurrence with her.

"Midna." She replied, lifting her head as if the name carried weight.

Judging by the thousands of golden eyes watching them, it did.


End file.
